Too Much Left Unsaid
by yumi michiyo
Summary: It has been five years since Hermione vanished, something Harry was unable to accept. What will happen when their paths cross again?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **(J.K. Rowling sits at her writing desk, surfing the Internet and reading FanFiction.)

Rowling: How dare these little twerps make a travesty of my beloved creation! They'll regret this! (Picks up phone and dials a number) Hello? Richards? Help me sue the pants of – and – (jabs finger at screen, reading off names).

Just in case you happen to be reading this, J.K., I would like my pants back (my bum is awfully cold without them and I'm attracting unwanted public attention). Oh, and yes, I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. does and that gave her the right to sue the pants off me.

**Author's Note: **This new fic is a departure from The Argument, which was a rather experimental one, being my first fic and all. I've always wanted to do an epic with adult themes, so…this is it. The first chapter is up for now, but rest assured, I won't take a few months to update it this time. (grins sheepishly)

Lightning flashed outside as the answering rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. Rivulets of rain ran down the window, unnoticed by the sleeping figure stretched on the bed. Harry Potter lay spread-eagled, dead to the thunderstorm outside in a Firewhisky-induced stupor. What faint light there was illuminated the copious amounts of empty Firewhisky bottles littered around him.

Out of the blue, someone pounded heavily on the front door of the little apartment.

'Harry! Are you in here? Open up!' yelled a voice.

'I think he's drunk again, Ron,' cut in a woman's voice. '**Alohomora**!'

The door clicked open and two figures stepped in. Ron wasted no time, marching over to the bed and seizing Harry's arm.

'Wake _up_, Harry! Merlin! Look at you, you're a bloody mess!'

Harry's head lolled from side to side and he mumbled incoherently. Ron shook his head in disgust. 'Ginny, I'm going to get Harry cleaned up.'

She nodded and took out her wand to make a start on the alcohol-sodden flat which Harry was living in.

Ron eventually emerged from the bathroom hauling a freshly showered and shaved Harry with him, pushing Harry onto the bed.

'Harry, mate, it's been five years since Hermione vanished and you've been a wreck ever since,' said Ron quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets while Ginny looked on. 'You have to pull yourself together. Wasting your life like this, moping about the past isn't going to bring her back.'

Harry looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, an interesting feature when paired with his brilliant green eyes.

'I love her, Ron,' he croaked. 'I want to go back and undo what happened that night.'

'I know. The thing is, we – me, Ginny, the others – we think you should move on with your life –'

The next instant, Harry sprang to his feet in a fit of incandescent rage. 'Don't you talk about Hermione as though she's dead!' he roared as Ron and Ginny struggled to control him.

'I never said –' began Ron hotly.

'We care about Hermione as much as you do, Harry! She was – is – our friend too, only we don't drown our sorrows in drink as you do–'

As abruptly as it had started, Harry's rage died down and he sank back onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. 'You're right. I know - I'm sorry. It's just that…it was my fault she disappeared.' Ron placed a comforting hand on his shoulders; Ginny made as though she would too but withdrew her hand at the last minute.

'We understand how you feel, Harry. But as much as we care about Hermione, we care as much about you.' whispered Ginny.

'You need to get away from this place,' said Ron, getting to his feet and pacing about the tiny apartment. 'Not just this flat. London too. Get some fresh air.'

Harry glanced at him.

'Did you have something in mind?'

Ron and Ginny exchanged a grin, despite the sombre atmosphere. 'As a matter of fact…Dean's aunt owns a little bed and breakfast in North Scotland and we've booked you a room there.'

'What?!' gasped Harry.

Ginny took up the explanation, rather enjoying herself. 'She's a Muggle, so no magic allowed. The village is also a little Muggle hamlet, an out of the way kind of place.'

Harry's jaw hung open. 'You cannot be serious.'

'Oh, but we are.' Ron withdrew a sheaf of paper from his jacket pocket and thrust it into Harry's hands. 'Here are your reservations.'

'And your luggage.' A medium-sized suitcase hovered in the air in front of Harry before settling on the floor with a thump.

'But…but…you can't just push me off to some god-forsaken village in bloody Scotland!' protested Harry, throwing himself back onto the bed and snatching up a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky. 'I'm not going anywhere, so just leave me alone, OK?'

Ron had crossed the room in a few long strides and whisked the bottle out of Harry's hand. 'You'll be drinking no more of that,' he said firmly. 'Get a grip on yourself, mate!'

Harry stubbornly clung to his bedpost. 'I'm not going bloody anywhere. Can't you goddamn people just let me be?'

'We care about you too much to do that.' said Ginny very quietly.

Ron broke the tense silence by grabbing Harry's arm. 'You're going and that's final.'

There was a scuffle, and Harry snatched up his wand from the floor. It was a sobering indication of how much he'd let himself go to seed when his spell missed Ron by a mile. In a heartbeat, Harry was disarmed and he lay panting on the bed, exhausted by the effort of his struggle.

'Look at you. You're pathetic, Potter. What happened to the guy that blew Voldemort into a thousand pieces and finished off a horde of Death Eaters practically a minute after?'

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes and he squeezed them shut, causing them to run down his face.

'You're right. I _am _pathetic. I'm useless.'

There was a creak of bedsprings as Ginny sat down tentatively next to him. 'Self-pity isn't going to get you anywhere.'

A palpable silence settled over the three young people. At length, Ron came over to the bed.

'Harry, you are going whether you like it or not. I know that I'm going to sound like a crusty old Hogwarts professor but it's for your own good.'

Harry and Ginny smiled at that. 'Oh, alright then,' interjected Harry grumpily. 'I'll go, if it makes you guys happy.'

'We're confiscating all your Firewhisky, you know, and since it's a non-magical village, there's no place where you can get some more.' cut in Ginny.

Harry paled, opening his mouth to protest but thinking the better of it when he saw the look on Ron's face.

**Author's Note: **I hope you liked that. The next chapter will be coming up very soon, within a week at the maximum.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter, et cetera, et cetera. All I own is this plot. Bummer.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait, folks. For some ££ reason, I couldn't post this new chapter. This chapter is rated PG-13 for adult themes, strong language among them. Well, anyway, enjoy!

Before Harry had even realised what was happening, he found himself standing at the foot of a quaint footpath leading up to a cottage nestled in the forest. Ron was standing beside him, carrying a bulky suitcase.

'Have a good time, mate. We'll pick you up in two weeks, alright? And don't try to escape.' The final sentence was delivered with an unusual sharpness.

Before Harry could even open his mouth, let alone protest, Ron Disapparated with a faint pop, the suitcase falling with a thud. He had to content himself with a drawn-out sigh which turned into a grunt as he picked up his luggage. It was uncharacteristically heavy to Harry, yet Ron had been able to lift – no, _tote_ – it with such ease. Firewhisky, though an excellent temporary Memory Charm, apparently did nothing else for him.

Harry was forced to half-carry, half-drag his suitcase along the footpath, swearing heartily under his breath as he did so. He would have very much liked to swear aloud but was wary of Dean's aunt catching him. Somehow, he had a nasty feeling that she would wash his mouth out with soap.

At long last, Harry reached the cottage. His heavy knock was answered almost immediately by a plump, cheerful woman, dressed neatly in a simple dress and an apron.

'Welcome, dear,' she boomed, enveloping Harry in a massive bear hug and squeezing the air from his lungs. 'I'm Rachel Thomas. Dean told me you'd be coming.'

Harry nodded weakly, gasping as she released him.

'You'll be staying in Room 16 on the second floor, third door on your right.'

He took the key from her hand and hauled his suitcase up the stairs. From what he glimpsed as he made his way up, the bed and breakfast exuded a homey atmosphere, warm and inviting as Number Four, Privet Drive never was. In fact, it strongly reminded Harry of The Burrow and he half-expected to see dishes washing themselves in the sink.

His room was comfortable enough, with a standard single bed complete with matching nightstand and a large carved dresser standing majestically opposite them. A door in the hallway presumably led to the bathroom. Harry dumped his suitcase to the side with a sigh, collapsing onto the bed in the next instant. The back of his throat burned uncomfortably.

_Merlin, I need a drink, _thought Harry guiltily, squashing the thought a second later.

'Fuck this,' he said aloud to no-one in particular. 'I came here to get clean.'

His resolve was tested by a wave of nausea, then an overwhelming urge to drink. Harry staggered to his feet, made his way to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

Placing both hands on the rim to steady himself, Harry turned on the tap with a shaking hand. He gulped the water greedily, savouring the coolness on his parched tongue. As the burning thirst subsided, a movement caught his eye and Harry looked up. A wild-eyed, dishevelled man stared back at him and Harry tensed. It took awhile before he realised it was his reflection in the mirror hanging over the sink.

How long had it been since he had last seen himself? The broken-looking wreck Harry saw was a far cry from the handsome young man he had once been, seven years ago. The Firewhisky had done more than he had expected. Fine lines creased his forehead and outlined his mouth. Dark circles around his eyes and bags beneath them testified to sleepless nights and alcohol abuse.

In a fit of rage, Harry drove his fist into the mirror. Remorse and the horrible sensation of self-pity washed over him and he sank to the floor, sobbing like a child. Blood and tears mingled on the tiles, forming a macabre puddle.

He drank to forget, to try and erase the hurt and guilt from his mind. But in spite of his efforts, he'd wake up every morning replaying the incident in his mind. Eventually, Harry had taken to drinking all day, lying there on his bed with a bottle glued to his lips and tears leaking from his eyes.

_It was a stupid thing to do_, he reflected bitterly. Desperation behaviour after spending five years searching for Hermione. He should have known that she could never be found if she didn't want to be.

Harry slowly came to his senses, feeling the dull throbbing in his knuckles. A rough mess of scabs had formed over the cuts and dried rivulets of blood on his skin cracked as he moved his fingers gingerly, wincing as he did so. He fumbled for his wand and easily cleaned the mess, repaired the mirror and healed himself.

_Magic can do every damn thing except the things that really matter._

If only his life could be mended with a flick of a magic wand.

Harry jumped when a knock sounded on the door. 'Mr. Potter? You seemed awfully tired just now so I've taken the liberty of bringing your dinner upstairs.'

He opened the door and took the loaded tray from her hands. 'You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble, Mrs. Thomas.'

'Oh, it was no bother, no bother at all.' Harry hadn't intended to let her in but she smoothly pushed the door open and walked in.

'How do you like your room? It has an _excellent_ view of the main street of Little Brompton, really the best view in the guesthouse.'

'It's marvellous.'

She whirled around and scrutinised Harry in silence.

'Are you ill, dear? You look a little pale.'

'I – I'm fine, really,' he began, only to be chivvied into bed.

Mrs. Thomas placed the tray on his lap. 'A grown man like you ought to be taking care of himself,' she said sternly.

Harry bid her goodnight and as the door clicked shut, lifted the cover off the tray. It was beef stew, a rich and hearty homemade dish which he relished.

Tomorrow would be different, he promised himself as he drifted off to sleep. He would recover.

**Author's Note: **That's it for one chapter. I'll be revealing the painful memory very soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. I only own the merchandise.

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone. Sorry for the long silence. I was on holiday, visiting family since my major exams are over. Then I needed a holiday to recover from the holiday. Don't you just love and at the same time, hate your family?

Harry woke up with the sunlight streaming through the window in his eyes. It took him a while to remember where he was and longer before he sat up.

'Nnngh.'

He winced as his head throbbed. Eyes squeezed shut against the pain, Harry groped blindly on the nightstand for his wand. A simple charm, and the pressure on his skull was gone.

He briefly pondered showering and dressing but decided against it.

'What for? I've nowhere to go,' he thought, lying back down on his bed. Just then, a brisk knock sounded at the door.

'Harry, dear, are you awake? There's hot breakfast ready downstairs in the dining room if you want it.'

'Thanks, Mrs. Thomas, I'll be down in five minutes.' Darn. There went his chance of lounging in bed.

After showering and dressing, he lingered by the window, looking down on the main street of the little town. It was filled with people going about their business. Out of idle curiosity, he glanced at the clock and blinked. It was 7 in the morning.

_Why the hell am I awake so early?_ He grumbled to himself. _It's not like there's anything special to see…_

His heart stopped.

There was a familiar head in the street in the same shade of brown he knew so well.

Harry wasn't aware of flinging open the door, of dashing down the stairs and brushing of a startled Mrs. Thomas. The next thing he knew, he was standing in the street with the crowds of shoppers.

Harry's eyes darted left and right frantically.

Could it be…

There! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman disappear into the throngs of people to his left. He blindly pushed past, sight fixed on her, ignoring the little voice in his brain telling him that he could be stalking a perfect stranger, that it was just too much of a coincidence…

Then she turned her head.

Harry was riveted to the spot. Even from the distance, there was no doubt that she was Hermione. The spell was broken when she turned away and vanished past a burly man in beige.

Harry was galvanized into action, legs pumping as he tried to follow her as quickly as he could. Finally, they left the main street where he could see her clearly.

For the second time that day, his heart stopped.

Hermione wasn't alone. With her was a little girl, aged about five or six. Harry had not seen her earlier because of the crowd.

Frozen to the spot, he watched as Hermione and the girl turned off the street down a little pathway which presumably led to their home.

He felt as though his heart was shattering into pieces.

Deep inside of him, though he never admitted it, he selfishly wished that Hermione was as miserable as he was. Harry hoped that she would experience the suffering that he had gone through as he searched for her to no avail.

But it seemed that Harry's place in Hermione's heart was not as permanent as her place in his heart. She was probably married and that was her daughter.

He rubbed his face, suddenly feeling very old and tired. It was time to wake up from the daydream he had been living for the past five years. Hermione had already moved on and so must he.

Harry finally confronted the memory that had haunted him for the past five years.

**_9th of January, 5 years ago_**

_A 20-year-old Harry paced around his makeshift tent, brow furrowed in anger. _

'_Hermione, I am not letting you go out there tomorrow!'_

_She stood to the side, biting her lower lip in the manner he usually found so adorable. _

'_Just because I'm your girlfriend, Harry James Potter, doesn't mean that you have to be so overprotective!' she retorted hotly._

'_I'm not being overprotective! I…I just don't want you to get hurt.'_

_Harry fondly touched her cheek but Hermione pulled away. The soft green shade in his eyes hardened into twin emerald flames and his jaw tightened._

'_Merlin, Hermione, if you're going to be so damn difficult…'_

'_I'm not being difficult, Harry! You and your goddamn saving people thing, what the _hell_ makes you think that I'm so helpless?!' _

_Blazing emerald eyes met furious hazel ones. _

_Harry broke eye contact first, looking away._

'_Hermione, this is Voldemort we're up against. That bastard hurts anyone close to me. I can't afford to lose you, you know that.' _

_Hermione softened and she squeezed his hand._

'_Harry…I know. It's just that I don't want you to go out alone there. Don't you understand? I don't want to sit here and worry myself sick waiting for news. I want to help you.' _

_He exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. _

'_Hermione, listen to me. Hermione…' She knew what he was going to say and stepped away angrily._

_Harry snapped._

'_Damnit!' He roared. 'I need some time to think!'_

_Storming out of the tent, his mind in a maelstrom of emotions, he found himself in an unfamiliar part of the camp. _

_A head popped out of the tent on his right._

'_Harry?' _

_He scrutinised the face. It was Romilda Vane. Seeing her should have set off alarm bells in his head, considering what she had resorted to in chasing him in his sixth year but Harry was too angry with himself to care._

'_Romilda.'_

_She stepped out of the tent, pulling off her robe and revealing a low-cut dress underneath it. _

'_You look thirsty. Would you like a Gillywater?' she purred seductively, stroking his forearm. _

_Harry looked blankly at her, seeing none of the lust in her eyes. _

'_Alright. Fine. A small Gillywater.'_

_She pulled him into the tent in one fluid movement and pushed a glass into his hand. Harry downed the drink in one gulp and was pleasantly surprised to find it seemed to clear his head. _

'_Another glass?' _

_Harry nodded, holding his glass out. After downing it, and the next, time seemed to pass in a blur and he gradually lost control of himself. The last thing he remembered was Romilda's face coming dangerously close to his._

_Harry awoke the next morning with a pounding head. There was a warm weight resting on his chest and he rubbed his eyes blearily. _

_What happened last night? He seemed to have no recollection whatsoever. _

_Then the memories came rushing back. _

_Arguing with Hermione…leaving the tent…Romilda! The drinks he'd consumed!_

_He realised he was lying naked in bed with Romilda._

_Before he could react, his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what he'd done, Harry heard a sound outside the tent flap._

_No! He tried to move, to hide the evidence but his body refused to respond. Harry sat there, frozen, awaiting the inevitable._

_Hermione walked in and stopped short, her eyes taking in and comprehending the incriminating scene that lay before her._

_Harry could only watch as hurt and anger filled Hermione's normally gentle eyes and she bolted from the tent. _

_Only the sight of her retreating back spurred him into leaving the bed, hastily dressing as he did so._

'_Hermione! Wait! It's not what you think…I can explain…'_

_Even as the words left his mouth, he cringed at the feebleness of them. To make matters worse, Harry's shouts had aroused the entire camp. Wizards and witches cloaked in black robes streamed out of their tents, blocking Hermione from view. _

_By the time Harry had fought his way through the throng, it was too late._

_A search of the camp with Ron and Ginny yielded nothing. Harry had wanted to search again but the sudden attack launched by Voldemort on them forced him to abandon it._

_Luckily for all those fighting on the side of the Light, Harry channelled all his emotions into the Final Battle and the Dark Lord was annihilated._

_Though Good had triumphed, all was dark in Harry's soul._

_**Present day**_

Harry came back to the present with a start. The sun was setting in the horizon, painting the skies with streaks of red and orange.

And now he had a problem.

A part of him wanted to walk away, to wipe Hermione from his being and to begin life anew. That was what anyone would advise him to do. It was the perfectly sensible solution.

Of course, that was impossible to do.

Hermione had played such a major part in his life. If he were to rip her out, it would cause irreparable damage to himself.

That was certainly not a viable option.

And there was always seeking her forgiveness.

Romilda had been killed in the Final Battle, removing that particular problem. It now only lived in Harry's mind.

And Hermione's.

Harry still loved her. Selfishly, he wanted her back in his life. Something he knew was not possible, given the existence of that little girl.

In a flash, Harry knew what he had to do.

He would seek closure. Harry would have Hermione back in his life, but only as a friend.

With only the slightest hesitation, Harry started off down the winding path, just as the sun finally sank beneath the horizon.

**Author's Note: **Whew, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. Sorry if the ending seems a little rushed, I'm feeling a little pooped. I promise the next chapter won't be so rushed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter and Co. Honestly. fingers crossed behind back

**Author's Note: **I will not be celebrating Christmas holidays this year. That means you guys get an uninterrupted flow of chapters! Huzzah!

**Mugglecast Pickles Rock: **You are _**so** _right.

**Adapot: **She knew that Ron would be on Harry's side. Oh, and they had to set up a temporary camp near Voldemort's base.

**Harry'n'mione4ever: **Of course. This is an H/Hr story. Hehe.

As the last rays of sunlight gradually faded away, the streetlamps placed alongside the path suddenly flared, bathing the surroundings with a warm orange glow. The gravel crunched noisily under Harry's feet as a warm breeze ruffled his hair.

All of these little things went unnoticed by him, his mind thrown into turmoil. What would he say to her? What if her husband opened the door? Worse, what if he got thrown out on his ear? Harry could just imagine the scenario:

'Hi, I'm Harry Potter, Hermione's ex-boyfriend.'

'I know about you, you horny bastard, you slept with another woman and let Hermione see, didn't you, Potter?'

_Yep, that would go rather well, _thought Harry sardonically.

He was so occupied in putting together a long, convoluted speech, Harry didn't notice the gate until he kicked it with his right foot. To make matters worse, it was made of iron.

Harry's flow of colourful expletives, chanted furiously while he hopped around on one foot as he clutched the other could have filled a large spellbook. Most likely one dedicated to the Dark Arts.

When the pain in his foot finally eased, Harry looked up at the little cottage lying before him. It was a rather traditional red brick cottage, the kind wreathed in creepers as featured idyllic country landscapes. The iron fence, the very same one he had a brief and painful encounter with encircled the cottage with a modest garden separating them both.

The feature of the cottage which terrified Harry the most was the yellow glow emanating from the windows. It meant that somebody was home, quashing the hope that he could go away quietly with his dignity intact.

Actually, the real problem for Harry was not the issue of his infidelity. Before she succumbed to her injuries, Romilda had revealed that the Gillywater she had given him was liberally spiked with a potent combination of Firewhisky and several Confounding Charms cast upon them. Very reluctantly, she also confessed that they did not have sex, despite her repeated efforts. Luckily for Romilda, she died before Harry could react. No, the problem was getting Hermione to believe him.

Harry stood outside the gate for some time, staring disconsolately at the cottage. After what seemed like an eternity, he opened the gate and walked in. The front door was simple oak, with an old-fashioned brass door handle and matching knocker cast in the shape of a lion's head.

Very slowly, Harry grasped the shiny brass knocker and brought it down, once, twice, three times on the door. The echoing knocks aroused some noises from inside the house, giving him cold feet.

'Coming,' called an achingly familiar voice from within. 'Just hold on a minute…'

The door creaked open and Hermione Granger stood on the threshold.

Time had not altered her as drastically as it had him. Hermione's thick brown hair was loosely gathered into a rough ponytail which streamed down her back. However, Harry only allowed himself a quick, sweeping glance of her, his gaze returning almost immediately to her eyes.

He was deeply saddened by what he saw there.

Initially, Hermione's hazel eyes were curiously inquiring before she recognized him. Harry felt his heart break all over again as he watched hurt, anger and sorrow fill them, saw tears form in her eyes.

'What are you doing here?'

Hermione's voice was barely a whisper. For a moment, Harry glimpsed the uncertain 11-year-old girl he had once known, so many years ago.

'I…I came to apologise…'

Harry had hesitated too long: she broke their eye contact, closing the heavy oak door as the firelight from within caught the tears spilling down her cheeks.

With reflexes born of years of Quidditch, Harry jammed his foot into the doorway.

The surprising sharp pain that resulted forced an involuntary gasp from his lips. Unintentionally, he had used his previously injured right foot to block the doorway, injuring it further.

'Go away, Harry!' cried Hermione, her voice wobbling.

'Hermione, please…'

'Mummy?'

A third voice, totally unexpected, froze both Harry and Hermione in their tracks.

'Jessie! What are you doing out of bed?!' hissed Hermione's voice.

'I heard lots of noises and I couldn't sleep and I was thirsty, so I came to get a drink of water…'

Harry felt the pressure on his foot ease off and he took this advantage to replace his throbbing right foot with his left one.

Unfortunately, Hermione was sharper than he'd anticipated, and she slammed the door shut as soon as he removed his right foot.

Harry stared at the door in dismay.

'Hermione, open the door!' he shouted, banging on it with his fists.

The only reply was the clacking sound of the lock.

At that very point, that very instant, Harry lost patience.

Whipping out his wand, with a furtive glance around, he aimed it at the door.

'Hermione, you had better open this door, or I'll blast it off its hinges!' he bellowed.

No answer from within.

'_Reducto!'_

The door flew backwards with an almighty groan as it was ripped from its hinges. It fell to the floor with a loud crash, revealing Hermione standing there with her wand out.

'Who the _bloody_ hell do you think you are, Harry Potter, if you think you can break your way into my home!'

'I only want to talk to you!'

'Well, I don't want to talk to _you_, you two-timing bastard.' Though her words were fierce, more tears were rolling down Hermione's face.

'I need to explain what really happened that night,' said Harry earnestly.

Hermione set her jaw firmly. 'You and I both know what happened that night,' she said calmly. 'You fucked Romilda Vane and deliberately showed me what you had done.'

'I did not! She offered me a drugged Gillywater and then dragged me into bed with her!'

Silence.

'Did you – '

'No, we didn't have sex.'

'Oh.'

The atmosphere, previously tense and filled with fury, subsided to a strange awkwardness, though Harry sensed that she did not completely believe him

Hermione bit her lip, a familiar gesture which brought back fond memories to Harry.

'Sorry about your door,' muttered Harry, his face crimson. 'I'll fix it for you.'

The door flew back into place with a flick of his wand and he turned back to face Hermione.

'So…' Harry began. _Merlin, I sound like such an idiot, _he thought furiously.

Struggling desperately for something to talk about, his gaze fell on the little girl half-hidden behind her mother.

'You have a beautiful daughter…Jessie, is it?'

'Yes, thank you.' The reply was stilted and polite.

Hearing that, Harry angrily rubbed the bridge of his nose.

'For Merlin's sake, just what is your bloody problem?!' he snarled.

'My bloody problem is that I don't believe you!' Hermione shot back.

'I already explained to you…'

'Did you honestly think that it would be so simple, Harry? You just barge in here, explain and think that everything can go back to the way it was?'

Harry opened his mouth to answer back, then thought the better of it and shut it.

There was only one explanation for her behaviour, he reasoned, and he gave it.

'You're married.'

Harry stated it flatly and without expression, though he was shattering inside. Hermione was momentarily stunned.

'What? No! No, I…'

'Alright then, there's another man in your life. That's why you won't treat me like your friend. You're trying to drive me out of your life so you can start it over, with your fucking Muggle boyfriend and children!'

Hermione had gone deathly white at those words. Taking her silence as agreement with his words, Harry turned his blazing emerald eyes on Jessie.

'I see you're already getting started.' he growled.

'You're wrong.'

He blinked and wheeled on her.

'What?!'

Hermione stepped forward, her eyes flashing dangerously.

'There is no other man in my life. Not since you, Harry.'

Harry's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.

'But…' he began, gesturing in the little girl's direction. 'Aren't you her mother?'

She placed a hand on Jessie's shoulder, squeezing it lovingly.

'Yes, I am.'

'Then…who's her father?'

Hermione looked him squarely in the eye. 'You are.'

**Author's Note: **No surprise there, people. This is, after all, a Harry/Hermione fanfic. Sorry for this late post but my dad's here for Christmas and he doesn't appreciate the subtle art of FanFiction. Ah well. Can you say Bah, Humbug?

You, good reader, might notice some humorous bits in this chapter. I apologise, since this humour does not fit the overall emotional theme of this chapter but I was in a very good mood and it shows in my writing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns everything to do with Harry Potter. I get nothing out of manipulating her creations other than readers' reviews.

**Author's Note: **This chapter is dedicated to all those who reviewed my last chapter: **SwishAndFlick31, BlackPurpleTulip, HeartAngel, B. harry'n'mione4ever **and last but not least, **amelia. **You guys keep me typing and warm my heart with your little electronic messages. Woo!

Harry staggered back a few paces in utter shock, trying to absorb the enormity of the bombshell Hermione had dropped on him. Automatically, he ran his hand through his already unruly hair, a habit of his since young when he was feeling pressured. Once or twice he opened his mouth to say something but shut it again, at a loss for words.

Jessie too was as surprised as he was. 'Mum?' she squeaked, whirling on Hermione.

Hermione had remained perfectly composed, standing with her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes fixed firmly on Harry.

At last, Harry managed to calm down enough to enunciate a complete, coherent sentence.

'I'm…a _father_?'

'Yes.' Hermione's composure slipped a little upon seeing the pain on Harry's face and she mentally slapped herself.

How could she have forgotten? One of Harry's fondest wishes was to have children, to someday surround himself with his family, something he himself had been cruelly deprived of. To let him know he had missed out on raising their first child and in such a shocking fashion was as good as a dagger to his heart.

Harry stared long and hard at Jessie, who defiantly stared back. Now Harry was looking at her properly, he saw she did indeed resemble him slightly. Her most striking feature, he wryly noted, was her deep emerald eyes which were lightly flecked with brown. Rather than marring the beauty of her eyes, the two colours complemented each other perfectly.

'What happened after you found out?' he asked, not taking his eyes off Jessie even though she had already looked away out of pure shyness.

'I couldn't go back. I didn't want to face you and… Anyway, an elderly aunt left me some money in her will some time before and I used it to buy this cottage,' replied Hermione, gesturing around her. 'I was determined to raise Jessie by myself.'

Harry took a step forward towards her. 'Didn't it ever strike you that Jessie is as much my daughter as she is yours?' His voice was filled with disappointment, an emotion Hermione had not been expecting. Though under a heavy onslaught of guilt, she was not going to give in to Harry so easily.

'I wasn't going to bring you back to earth from where you were with _Romilda_ so suddenly,' she hissed harshly, anticipating and glimpsing the flash of anger the name evoked. 'I bet, Harry, you weren't ready to be saddled with responsibility yet.'

'You're wrong.'

Harry's face was as impassive and unreadable as a mask's, frustrating all Hermione's attempts to take control of the situation. _How different, _she mused, _from his schooldays when his face was an open book._

'You're wrong,' repeated Harry firmly, his brows creasing. 'I've been saddled with responsibility from the moment Voldemort killed my parents. Hermione, you have _absolutely _no idea what's it's like to be the one fated to kill someone. As I remember it, you didn't handle it too well when Rita Skeeter was making up cock-and-bull stories about you and Krum. How do you like it if everybody in the streets knew your name? How would _you _feel if your every move was being recorded by over-zealous reporters and published for the whole wizarding world to look at?'

Though he had not been angry just now, Harry was furious now, the twin emerald flames burning into Hermione's eyes. His voice had gradually risen in volume as he poured out all his suppressed rage at her. While Hermione, who was accustomed to his outburst, stood calmly there, Jessie hid behind her mother, peeping out only once and swiftly withdrawing soon after, terrified by what she saw in her father's eyes.

Harry glanced down at the frightened little girl and the fury instantly departed from him, forcing him to turn his head away and vent the rest of his feelings in one, long, heavy sigh.

'Can I at least meet my daughter?' he asked angrily. Hermione bit her lip, and then nodded.

'Jessie?' The name was unfamiliar in his mouth and it showed in the stiff way he pronounced it.

She looked up reluctantly at him, after being discreetly prodded by Hermione. Harry hesitated, and then knelt on the floor. 'Come here,' he said in as kind a tone as he could muster, his arms open to her.

The little girl walked slowly at first, then faster, into Harry's open arms. His arms closed rather awkwardly around Jessie and he carried her as though he was carrying an extremely delicate object.

Harry winced inwardly at this. He had never really learned how to hold a child. However, Jessie sensed his discomfort and she shifted in his arms, sitting comfortably on the makeshift seat formed from her father's arms.

'Hi, Daddy,' beamed Jessie radiantly, as politely as only a five-year-old girl could be. 'My name is Lily Jessica, but my mummy calls me Jessie…'

Harry's head snapped up in shock and his body suddenly stiffened.

'Hermione?'

She looked away, her face flushed. Jessie, realizing she had said the wrong thing, stared down at her feet, her cheeks as red as her mother's.

'You named our daughter after my mother?'

The question was posed in a hushed tone, Harry looking at his old girlfriend in amazement.

Hermione bit her lip yet again, the lower part now fairly red and swollen. 'I knew how important it was to you. If Jessie came out a boy, I was…'

'…going to name him James.' Harry finished the sentence for her, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

'Thank you.'

Harry got to his feet slowly, a small grunt issuing from his mouth with the added burden that was Jessie.

'Why did you call her Jessie when Lily is her first name?' he asked gently, shifting his daughter in his arms.

'I couldn't,' Hermione brushed a few loose strands of hair from her forehead. 'It reminded me too much of you.'

There was a palpable silence in the atmosphere. Jessie fidgeted with Harry's messy hair, not completely understanding the emotions of her parents.

'Could we go back…?'

'No, Harry.' He shut his mouth, clearly crushed by her answer.

'Why not?'

She had to suppress a totally inappropriate giggle at the sight of his face; he looked just like a little boy who had been denied a lollipop.

'I…I just _can't_. How do I know whether you were telling the truth? If your feelings for me have stayed the same after five years?Are you the man I once knew?'

This time, it was Harry who bit his lip, perplexed at her questions with typical male confusion. Bewilderment quickly turned to anger and frustration, and he knitted his brows. Jessie took this opportunity to let herself down from his arms.

'For Merlin's sake, Hermione, don't you trust me anymore?' he roared.

Her face crumpled and a solitary tear streaked down her face.

'No,' she whispered. 'No, I can't, Harry. I want to, I want to believe you but I can't.'

He had nothing to say to that and he hung his head, the picture of defeat.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait AND the rushing at the end. My dad came for Christmas and he absolutely hates me writing fanfic so I had to wait for him to go. Sorrysorrysorry! ducks behind sofa as assorted rubbish splatters the wall The next chapter will be coming REAL soon. Love you guys! a stale pumpkin pie connects with my face


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I would like to buy the rights to Harry Potter off J.K. Rowling. That proves I do not own him, sadly enough.

**Author's Note: **Hey guys. This chapter was supposed to be up much earlier but I was busy with school, and then I had a three day, two night camp. I am SO sorry bows continuously I love you guys anyway.

This chapter is dedicated to **Whitelight72**, **Stary**, **MiKaYGiRl**, **FayeLibra2317**, **amrawo**,** harry'n'mione4ever**, **APRIL26**, and of course, **pstibbons**. You guys make my gloomy little life brighter with a few words.

**harry'n'mione4ever: **Well, there are lots of dads in this world. Some are like mine, some are like yours and a precious few are like **chem prof. **(I really wish he'll adopt me :) )

**pstibbons: **OMG, I think you're right. I'll fix the problem in this chapter, thanks for pointing it out!

Harry ran his hand through his hair with infinite slowness. He wished he could suddenly wake up from this horrible nightmare or that Hermione would withdraw her words. _Perhaps she didn't realise, _he thought savagely, _how much suffering I went through, how much guilt I experienced. _

Sneaking a sideways glance at her, Harry was taken aback at her apparent impassivity. Hermione was looking elsewhere, out the window at the golden glow of the streetlamps, her face as blank as a mask. In fact, the only indication of her emotions was the barely perceptible tightening of her jaw, evidenced by the lines around her mouth.

Though there was no sign of it on her face, there was a raging whirlpool of emotions swirling inside Hermione's heart. She was still utterly, totally, completely in love with Harry and knew she always would be. Yet her rational mind kept replaying that horrible scene, continuously analysing each moment to the everlasting agony of her heart.

When Harry had shown up on her doorstep, she had been initially overjoyed to see him again. That euphoria had then given way to the anger and resentment harboured inside, which she had unleashed on him.

At this juncture, all of her pent-up feelings had already been released and she felt like an empty shell. Hermione was ready to start afresh except for one tiny snag: her venom had lashed out in the spiteful statement that she could not trust Harry. She knew that that barb would hit home, given the dangerous situations they had faced together during their years at Hogwarts. It was impossible for someone not to forge an unshakable bond of trust and loyalty with him.

Harry screwed his eyes shut and opened them again abruptly, exhaling sharply as he did so.

'I have to go, Hermione. It's late.'

Every fibre of her being screamed at her to say something, to stop him from leaving but she nodded mutely. Harry walked away, brushing past her as he left but suddenly halting in the doorway.

'I'll come back tomorrow to get to know Jessie, if that's alright with you. She is also my daughter, after all.' He said the last sentence with a bitterness which plainly told Hermione that he deeply resented being shut out of the first five years of Jessie's life.

Jessie was nodding off in a plush armchair by the fire but lifted her head when she heard her name. Harry smiled warmly and impulsively strode over to her.

'Goodnight, Jessie,' he whispered tenderly as he scooped her up into his arms and planting a kiss on her forehead. 'Daddy will come back tomorrow, OK?'

The little girl nodded sleepily. Harry held her close for a minute before carefully transferring the sleeping Jessie into her mother's arms.

For the second time, he walked to the threshold and paused, as if lost in thought. Hermione watched him intently, stroking Jessie's hair and Harry turned his head to her. For a split second, she glimpsed a flash of some emotion she could not immediately identify. Longing? Anger? Or even as she fervently hoped – acceptance?

Once she was absolutely certain that Harry had really left, Hermione climbed the staircase with Jessie in her arms. As she tucked the little girl into bed, she heard a muffled 'Goodnight Mummy.'

'Jessie? Are you still awake?'

Jessie nodded sleepily and stretched her mouth in a massive yawn which made her mother smile.

'Goodnight sweetie,' whispered Hermione, getting up and walking over to the light switch. However, Jessie wasn't quite finished yet.

'Mummy, you know what? Daddy's exactly how I imagined him to be.'

Hermione stopped short and her motherly smile was replaced with one that could only be described as bitter.

'You mean he shouts and breaks down doors?' she said spitefully.

Jessie merely smiled that captivating, angelic smile of hers.

'No, Mummy, I meant that he gives great cuddles, like Roseanna's daddy and he swings me up high like Michael's daddy and he's really, really tall like Tommy's daddy,' she said innocently. 'So he's the best daddy, 'cause he's three daddies in one.'

Hermione fought down the sudden lump in her throat as a tear trickled down her cheek. 'I think he's the best daddy too, sweetie.'

Harry trudged back to his lodgings like a man in a dream, lost in his own thoughts. He was both elated at finding Hermione again and crushed because she didn't want him back.

In the midst of his thoughts, he wasn't aware that it had started to rain heavily. On he walked, oblivious to his soaked clothes and face. The tears that had formed in his eyes mingled with the rainwater as they ran their course down Harry's cheeks.

'Landsakes, dear, what happened to you?' exclaimed Mrs. Thomas upon opening the door for him. Harry gave a start, gazing at her through bleary eyes, swollen from crying.

'Oh, it's nothing, Mrs. Thomas,' he muttered roughly, swiping at his eyes. 'I…I was caught in the rain and it irritated my eyes…'

'Now, you know you can't fool me, young man,' the sprightly lady scolded as she vigorously towelled him dry. 'Problems with a woman, isn't it? Ronald mentioned something of the sort when he called me last week.'

Harry remained silent, allowing Mrs. Thomas to lead him to a plush armchair beside the roaring fire with a hot mug of cocoa between his numb hands.

'You should forget about her, dear. She sounds the dodgy type to me, abandoning you just like _that_!' She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

Harry said nothing. How do you forget someone whom you've known and cared about for most of your life?

'Now, you want to meet a nice girl,' prattled Mrs. Thomas enthusiastically as she poked the logs in the fireplace. 'Tomorrow, you dress up nicely and I'll introduce you to Jane Granger. Lovely girl, that Jane, always so cheerful and kind. And her little Jessie, such an adorable sweetheart. Jane certainly won't leave her man.'

Harry jerked out of the lull he was slipping into by the fireside when he heard the names mentioned. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. After a moment's contemplation, he abruptly burst into hearty laughter at the terrible irony of the situation, much to the astonishment of his landlady. More unusually, as he laughed, tears of sorrow and bitterness ran down his face.

**Author's Note: **Hope you liked that, people. Again, I most heartily apologise for the long delay in updating. The next chapter will be up next weekend, or, if worst comes to worst, the weekend after that. Love and kisses for everyone out there!


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and assorted stuff created by J.K Rowling, blah blah blah and so on and so forth, does not belong to me. I don't even own the plot. It comes from watching too much TV.

**Author's Note: **Hello people. If you are reading this, this means you have successfully put up with me and my story for 6 chapters. I do apologise if it isn't as comprehensive/meandering/intelligent as the other excellent fanfics you have doubtless read elsewhere on I'm slowly running out of steam.

This chapter is dedicated to Wei, who introduced me to the world of fanfics with a _very _steamy, obscene and practically pornographic Dramione fic 5 years ago, at the tender age of 12. Thanks.

Mrs. Thomas glared icily at Harry, waiting patiently for him to stop laughing.

'And what, may I ask, Mr. Potter, is so amusing about Jane Granger?' she hissed.

He swallowed. It was like being at Hogwarts again, with McGonagall interrogating him. 'Uh, nothing, ma'am,' gulped Harry, desperately wishing he hadn't said anything at all. 'It's just…nothing.'

'I'm going to bed,' said Mrs. Thomas curtly, casting him a look so frosty Harry shrank into his chair. 'You had better go too, it's very late.' With that last remark, she swept past him up the ancient staircase and was gone.

Alone by the dying embers of the fire, he reflected on the events of the day. _Why won't Hermione come back to me? _The question, so simple, and yet with such a complex answer haunted his mind constantly.

_She needs proof._

A little voice in the back of his mind whispered what he already knew but dreaded to hear.

Harry buried his head in his hands in complete and utter desperation. Hermione was a practical person, interested in solid facts, the complete opposite of Luna. His lips quirked into a smile as his brain conjured the image of the dreamy Ravenclaw. _Luna and her Crumple-Horned Snorkacks._

Currently, she was in Sweden, searching for evidence that her beloved creatures existed. So determined was she, she refused to marry Ron until she managed to sight a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. He in turn was at his wits' end, having tried every trick and ploy to dissuade her, going as far as to dress up as one of the blasted things. In typical Ron style, his Snorkack's horns were straight.

_Hermione would love to hear that, _he thought and his cheerful mood was instantly dampened.

To try and drive her from his mind, Harry thought instead about Jessie but even that was fruitless. She was the spitting image of her mother, except for the eyes. _The exact opposite of me,_ he thought wryly.

In a physical effort to clear his head, Harry stood up and walked over to the dining hall. It was deserted, given the late hour, and the only sound was from the majestic grandfather clock in the far corner. Luckily for him, the fire gave off enough light for Harry to see where he was going and there was no need to use magic.

He approached a dark indistinct shape which he later found to be the silverware cupboard and ran his hand over the polished oak, enjoying the smooth sensation of the cold surface when he suddenly froze.

His fingertips were clearly touching a bottle.

Harry moved his hand upward, feeling the cool glass gradually taper into a sleek neck. It was a wine bottle, most probably left by a lodger after dinner. Wrapping his fingers around its neck, he gave it a shake and he distinctly heard liquid sloshing inside.

The wine bottle was still half-full and he automatically began raising it to his lips, a habit born of years of Firewhisky.

Harry caught himself just as the rim touched his lips.

'What the hell am I doing?' he said aloud, staring down at the bottle in disbelief. Every fibre of his being protested mightily when he lowered the bottle a fraction. Cold beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, testifying to the massive internal struggle.

His initial alcohol cravings had been dulled earlier when he was dealing with the emotional rollercoaster with Hermione. Now, alone and depressed, the urge came back, hitting harder and unrelentingly, demanding to satisfy its thirst.

The alcohol had helped him at first by numbing his pain but it always came back later. He knew it would.

With a jolt, he realised the bottle was coming closer to his mouth and he slammed it back onto the countertop angrily, ashamed that his resolve was still weak.

Outside, a clap of thunder echoing noisily reminded him of the rainstorm still raging outside. Harry stood at the counter, motionless, willing himself to let go of the bottle but his fingers remained tightly clamped around the bottle's neck.

_Let go,_ urged the voice in his head.

Deep down inside, Harry was ashamed of the broken-down alcoholic he had become. Though everyone around him never said it out loud, he could see the bitter disappointment in their eyes, even Ron's and Ginny's, whenever they looked at him. He knew how far he had fallen, recalling the memory of when Ron had so easily dodged his spell not so long ago.

Impulsively, he strode out of the boarding house into the forest. Allowing his feet to guide him, Harry found himself standing in a clearing.

Again, the wine bottle rose to his lips and paused there. Harry's knuckles turned white as he gripped it tightly, straining to stop from drinking. The thirst burned more intensely and he watched helplessly as the bottle inched towards his lips.

It was then the faces of Hermione and Jessie sprang into his mind.

A fresh burst of will-power surged forth and Harry flung the wine bottle onto the grass, where it shattered, spilling its contents.

He stared, awed by what had transpired, as the blood-red wine seeped into the ground as it was diluted by rainwater. A powerful elation flooded his mind, and Harry knew he had finally overcome his worst enemy: himself.

He tilted his face upward to the sky, spreading his arms and letting the rain soak his clothes again.

Without warning, Harry poured out his emotions in a wordless roar, giving voice to the shame, hurt, anger and guilt he had accumulated over the past five years.

At long last, he slumped to the ground, exhausted by the violent outpour. When he looked up, Harry's eyes were filled with a burning determination.

'Never again will I allow myself to be controlled.' The vow was said quietly yet forcefully and the sky thundered in response.

Slowly, he got to his feet and left the clearing. The last of the wine still clinging to the shards of broken glass was finally washed away by the driving rain and vanished into the grass.

**Author's Note: **Sorry if this chapter seemed clichéd or too dramatic. Like I said, I watch a lot of TV. Next chapter up next weekend!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. That really sucks because I can't do things I want to do with him.

**Author's Note: **Hey guys. Earlier, I promised I would update every weekend but now, I'm sad to say I can't always keep up with deadline, due to the fact I signed up as a student leader at my college. Really sorry, people.

On another note, your reviews on my last chapter which assured me that I did not post a sucky, clichéd one really made my day. From now on, I will make it a point to write more sucky, clichéd chapters. (Just kidding.)

Harry awoke with a start with the early morning sun in his eyes and inexplicable butterflies of excitement in his stomach. He had been having a very vivid dream, the details of which were mostly forgotten but ended with him and Hermione together.

Rubbing his eyes groggily, Harry strained to remember the exact circumstances that had led to the both of them placed together in his dreams, giving up in utter frustration after only five minutes.

It was then when he realised what was so special about that morning. Today, he was going to spend time with his daughter. Grinning like a boy on Christmas morning, Harry showered and dressed at top speed, dashing downstairs for some breakfast. Even at that early hour, the dining hall was half-full with holidaymakers and hikers fuelling up for a long day of sight-seeing.

Chatter filled the air as Harry's fellow guests patiently waited for their breakfast to be served. At one end of the room, a well-dressed man was gesturing wildly as he spoke to his friend: '…I could have sworn, Morris, I left half a bottle of my 1990 Pinot Noir over at the cupboard…Yes, I know that bottles don't walk…Do you take me for a fool?!'

Harry wolfed down his hearty breakfast at top speed, finally pausing to look at his watch after mopping up the remnants of his egg yolk with some toast. Half past eight. Too early to pick up Jessie. Normally, the old Harry would have had no problem sitting still and generally wasting time. The new Harry was scarily hyperactive, constantly moving about as though filled with nervous energy.

After twiddling his thumbs for about five minutes, he made the decision to write to Ron and dashed up the stairs, two at a time. A quick inspection of his luggage turned up a small bottle of ink and a roll of parchment and Harry settled down to write the letter.

It was rather long, an impressive letter given that Harry's style of writing was concise and straight to the point and gave all the details of his finding Hermione and then the subsequent meeting.

Only after when he had rolled and sealed the letter neatly did Harry realise that Hedwig wasn't around to deliver it.

'Damn,' he muttered, tossing the roll of parchment carelessly back onto the writing desk. Throwing himself back into his chair, he assumed his favourite thinking pose, chin resting on one hand and legs set slightly apart.

It took him a while to hit upon the solution but once it entered his head, a wide grin spread slowly across his face and he leapt from his seat, snatching up the letter and his wand from his suitcase as he went.

_Somewhere in the heart of Iceland_

Iceland had never been known for its mild weather. On that particular day, an unusually fierce snowstorm, so fierce even the researchers who were studying it were situated safely in Greenland, was raging across the frozen tundra of the inland.

The frozen plains were all but deserted. The little wildlife found there was nowhere in sight, prudent enough to seek shelter and stay hidden until the storm died down.

One would have thought oneself hallucinating if one spotted something moving in the snow.

Yet, this oddity was true. Even stranger, a voice, loud enough to carry over the howling winds could be clearly heard to be complaining.

'…Luna, can you just remind me one more time? It's slipped my mind yet again, what the _friggin' bloody hell _are we doing in bloody _Iceland_??!!'

Ron Weasley, barely recognizable swathed in a thick anorak and sporting two months' worth of stubbly beard, was seething mad. As he stomped along in the thigh-deep layer of snow, he kept up an endless tirade aimed at his fiancée, Luna Lovegood, who calmly and patiently ignored him.

'I'm bloody freezing here, can't I conjure up a shelter or something? Or even better, Apparate us somewhere warmer?' he snarled, scrabbling at a coating of ice forming on his beard.

'Ronald,' said Luna patiently, noting down something in her research notebook, 'I've already told you, we can't use magic here. The Crumple-horned Snorkack can sense magical energy and it'll hide itself if it does.'

At that, Ron muttered a very uncomplimentary adjective about the Crumple-horned Snorkack which caused Luna to say, '_Ronald!_' in a shocked voice.

Suddenly, he stopped his griping and looked up.

'Did you hear something?' asked Ron inquiringly, pulling away the hood of his anorak so as to better discern the sound.

'What is it?' asked Luna excitedly, scribbling frantically in her notebook. 'Was it a low-pitched, moaning sound –? '

'No, it's not a bloody Snorkack mating call or whatever it is,' snapped Ron crudely. 'It's something else, like a bird screech…'

Both paused in their tracks, staring expectantly around at the whirling snowstorm.

Suddenly Luna's face lit up as she stared pointedly at a spot in the sky.

'A Thestral!' she exclaimed happily, running forward to meet the beast as Ron glanced around helplessly.

'Luna, are you sure?'

By now, she appeared to be stroking something about five feet above the snow. Ron skidded to a halt beside her, eyeing the patch of air in front of his fiancée suspiciously.

'Look, there's a letter attached to its neck,' remarked Luna calmly, reaching out to take the parchment from around the Thestral's neck, almost invisible against the white background to Ron's eyes.

There were actually two letters, a smaller fragment binding a larger roll of parchment. Ron carefully unrolled the first letter, recognising the familiar untidy scrawl almost immediately.

'It's from Hagrid,' he said happily, beginning to read it aloud.

_Dear Ron and Luna:_

_How are the both of you? I hope you've been getting on well in finding that ruddy beast of yours out there._

_Harry Flooed me this letter and asked me to forward it to you, having no owl and all. 'Course, I hadn't the foggiest idea where you two might be. Luckily, I got the bright idea of getting Tenebrus to deliver it for me. Luna can see him fine and he'll know where he can find you two._

_Best, _

_Hagrid_

_P.S. Feed Tenebrus before you send him home. He likes rabbits._

Ron scrunched up the letter and unrolled Harry's letter as Luna dug out some rabbit to feed Tenebrus. Scanning through it quickly, he let out an abrupt cry of surprise that caused the Thestral to rear up in fear.

'Ronald!' said Luna sternly, frantically trying to calm the excited animal. 'What on earth – '

'It's Hermione!' shouted Ron, jumping up and down, grinning like a madman. 'Harry's found her!'

**Author's Note: **I realized it's been three weeks since I last updated. You guys must want to kill me. I'm sorry, it will never happen again. Looks sorry for oneself


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **J.K Rowling owns the lot of it, including the rights to Harry Potter, and so on. I own the computer and the username.

**Author's Note: **Firstly, I'd like to thank the readers out there who very graciously didn't flame me for taking three weeks to post Chapter 8. You're all good people.

Secondly, a special mention for **Kinsfire** who actually bothered to use precious brainpower dissecting, pondering and comprehending my plot and storyline AND offered me some helpful advice to boot.

Thirdly, this chapter is in response to feedback that my last chapter was a bit short. Yes, it is because I rushed it out in fear that the readers out there would think that I've died or something. Here's next week's work to compensate you kind readers.

Lastly, I was surfing the other night and I stumbled upon **Plumgirl**'s story, _Must Be Approved By Crookshanks_. To my horror, I discovered many startling similarities between my story and hers. I was like, crap, not even the bloody plot's mine!

Luna blinked at Ron, before returning to the letter as he bounded in circles around her, wide blue eyes focused elsewhere before she returned to reality with a jolt.

'Why, Ronald, this…this is incredible!' she murmured almost to herself, running her gloved hand over the Thestral's sleek head after she had finished the letter. 'What were the odds – Ronald! What in Merlin's name are you doing?!'

Ron had finished his dance of joy and had seized the backpacks from the snow where he and Luna had dumped them, stuffing various items inside.

'We're going to North Scotland, where else d'you think?' he roared back over the whine of the wind. I need to talk to Hermione and – '

She had rushed forward, yanking the rucksacks from his grip with surprising strength and grabbing his hand.

'No, Ron,' said Luna evenly, her calm misty blue eyes meeting his astonished brown ones. 'We can't go now.'

'Why not?' he asked indignantly.

'Have you read the entire letter yet?'

Ron shook his head slowly.

She sighed, a deep long-suffering sigh and handed him the letter.

He looked up from Harry's spidery handwriting, confusion furrowing his brow.

'I don't see anything in there from Harry asking us not to go now,' remarked Ron rather bemusedly, holding up the parchment to the light.

Luna jabbed her finger at a passage halfway down the roll.

'It just says that he's only just found out he has a daughter with Hermione and he's going to spend some quality time with her this afternoon. So?'

'That's exactly it,' snapped Luna rather testily. 'Harry wants to catch up with Jessie and he certainly doesn't need you to be there, complicating matters.'

'I'm his best mate –' began Ron, equally as miffed.

'– and therefore you should give him some space to breathe,' completed Luna, her eyes taking on their misty impenetrability that so characterized her eccentricity. 'Let Harry get to know his family better before you step in.'

Ron scratched his bristly beard thoughtfully while Luna turned her attention to Tenebrus, who was pawing the snow in evident dislike.

'In that case, when is the right time for us to go?'

'Harry'll let us know,' she answered brightly, sending off the Thestral.

He pulled a face and rubbed the bridge of his nose clumsily with his gloved hand.

_Damn it, _thought Ron. _The perfect excuse to leave this bloody place and she saw right through it._

Luna tugged the front of her anorak higher, trying and failing to conceal a smile spreading across her face.

'So Jessie, what's your, erm, favourite colour?'

Harry cringed inwardly even as the awkward question left his mouth. God, he sounded like a totally clueless father. Which in actual fact he was.

'Blue, Daddy,' Jessie answered the question almost immediately in that straightforward way all five-year-olds do. 'A nice light blue, like the sky.'

They were sitting side-by-side on the swings in the local children's playground, Jessie lightly scuffing her shoes in the dirt below as she swung back and forth while Harry had great difficulty fitting his six-foot-one frame on the seat.

'How about bluebell blue?'

Jessie wrinkled her nose thoughtfully, apparently comparing the blueness of the sky to bluebells.

'Nope,' she concluded decisively. 'Bluebells are too blue to be nice.'

She hopped off and plunked herself down in the sandbox, prompting him to follow suit.

The conversation died there and then as Jessie turned her attention to the damp sand. Harry rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, struggling to think of other things to say.

'Look, Daddy!' interrupted Jessie, holding up a handful of sand.

Harry stared blankly at the shapeless lump of sand.

'That's nice, Jessie,' he said enthusiastically, prodding it with a finger. 'Erm, what's it supposed to be?'

She opened her eyes wide, blinking at her father in disbelief. 'Why, don't you know?'

Harry shook his head. _Oh shit, I'm blowing it, _he thought. _I should have bought that book on good parenting from the village bookstore._

'No, sweetie, I don't know what it is,' he said rather worriedly, hoping fervently he was saying the right thing.

'Oh,' Jessie scrutinised the sand closely for a few seconds before dumping it back into the sandbox. 'Me neither.'

Harry pulled a face. _Mental note No. 1 to self: Never try to fathom five-year-old logic._

The little girl began digging a long narrow trough in the middle of the sandbox using her hands.

'Jessie, don't use your hands, Daddy'll buy you a bucket and shovel…' Harry looked around frantically, jumping to his feet and purchasing a brightly-coloured set he randomly grabbed from the nearby stand.

'Don't bother, Daddy, I'm done already,' called Jessie just as he'd collected his change from the stallholder.

The potbellied man grinned widely upon catching a glimpse of Harry's purchase, exposing a row of nicotine-stained teeth.

'An excellent choice for your kid, sir.'

'Thank you,' mumbled Harry as he walked back to the sandbox, aware how stupid he looked with Bob the Builder grinning from the bucket and shovel he carried in his hands.

Jessie placed her hands on her hips and pouted as he sank onto the sand beside her.

'I don't like Bob the Builder, Daddy. He looks dumb. Barney's so much better. I'm not using that.'

'Alright, Jessie,' replied Harry wearily, tossing the bucket and shovel aside. 'You don't have to use Bob if you don't want to.'

The familiar 'ting-a-ling' of the ice-cream van caught Harry's attention.

'Do you want an ice-cream, sweetie?' he asked.

She brightened up almost instantly.

'Yay! I want a strawberry ice-cream, no sprinkles, with no red bits and a chocolate wafer sticking out of the top.' instructed Jessie authoritatively to her bewildered father.

Harry sprinted over to the van, painfully aware of the amused looks from the more experienced fathers in the playground.

_Mental note No. 2 to self: Do not be doormat for Jessie._

By the time he had been served, the ice-cream was rather soft and he was forced to lick it to stop it from dripping over his new jeans.

Harry noticed Jessie was digging happily in the sand with the Bob the Builder shovel on his way back.

_Darn kid._

'Here, Jess,' he said, handing the ice-cream to her. 'Your ice-cream.'

She took one look at it and let out a loud 'Yuck!'.

'Daddeee!' she yelped at a taken aback Harry. 'I said a _chocolate _wafer! This one's a vanilla wafer!'

Hurriedly, Harry yanked out the offending confectionery and popped it into his mouth, ignoring the audible sniggers from the other fathers.

'There,' he mumbled thickly through the wafer, 'now it's OK to eat.'

Jessie folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip grouchily.

'No it isn't, Daddy,' she pronounced regally, giving him her best cool, condescending glare and prompting him to wonder whether she was his daughter or Malfoy's. 'It's _contaminated _now and I can't eat it.'

Harry sulkily took a massive bite out of the ice-cream, pointedly ignoring the stares of the other kids and their grinning dads.

_For a _contaminated _ice-cream, _he thought grumpily, _it tastes just fine. _

'Mummy!'

Jessie ran up the garden path into Hermione's arms.

Harry trudged wearily behind, exhausted from a whole day of playing with Jessie in the playground.

'Look what Daddy bought me!' she said excitedly, holding out the bucket and shovel to her mother.

'Bob the Builder?' Hermione raised an eyebrow as she held up the gaily-coloured bucket for inspection. 'Jessie doesn't like Bob the Builder, she prefers Barney.'

The heat rose to Harry's neck and face and he groaned, rolling his eyes upward. Hermione barely suppressed a giggle.

'Daddy bought me an ice-cream too, but he _contaminated_ it and he had to eat it all.' Jessie continued in a very matter-of-fact voice.

Hermione lost her composure at this point and began laughing uncontrollably, clutching her sides, her head filled with vivid mental images of him sitting solemnly in the sandbox, eating a strawberry ice-cream with no sprinkles, no red bits and no chocolate wafer stuck in it.

Harry's lips quirked before the absurdity of the situation hit him and he joined in the laughter.

Jessie stared at both her parents in wide-eyed disbelief.

'What's so funny about Daddy eating a contaminated ice-cream?' she asked bemusedly, almost to herself.

**Author's Note: **This chapter would have been longer if it hadn't been for _somebody _glares significantly at offender yelling at me to get off that bloody computer.

The Harry and Jessie part is based partially on my diva little sister.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Last time I checked, my initials were CMC, not JKR, I didn't have an obscenely large bank account and I didn't create Harry Potter. Sucks.

**Author's Note: **I know I haven't updated in yonks dodges rancid cake but I've been heavily involved at my junior college cut off by cream pie splattering face organising and running the orientation camp! Sorry, OK? I'll try and update faithfully from now on! submerged by deluge of assorted foodstuff

Harry was still chuckling even as he left the cosy cottage, hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. 'Contaminated _indeed_,' he smirked. 'That kid…she's really Hermione's daughter.'

Night had already fallen by the time he reached the front door of the guesthouse. Silhouetted in the doorway was a familiar figure with her hands planted firmly and disapprovingly on her hips.

'You are late for dinner, Mr. Potter!' Mrs. Thomas was already starting on him even before he had crossed the threshold. '_Never_ in the _entire_ history of this house has any lodger flouted the rules! You don't like my cooking?'

Harry reverted to instinct, honed from years of scolding from Hermione and began backing away slowly. 'It's not that I don't like your cooking, Mrs. Thomas, I had some business in the village…'

'None of your excuses, young man!' cut in the matron. 'Now go into the dining room and have your dinner!'

He scurried away, completely chastened and sat down meekly at the table. His neighbour, a barrel–chested Scot clearly enjoying his second bowl of stew leaned over conspiratorially.

'She's as easy–going as my mam, she is,' he remarked, cheerfully scooping a hearty portion for Harry. 'In fact, more lenient. Me mam used to spank us boys with a whole oak branch if we were late for dinner.'

The Japanese couple sitting across them looked distinctly uneasy at his words, fidgeting and exchanging nervous phrases.

Harry nodded and smiled politely, shovelling down his stew as fast as courtesy would permit him. He was looking forward to tomorrow, when he would be taking Jessie out again.

This time, Jessie was waiting for him in the garden, flinging herself at his legs the moment he opened the gate.

'Daddy! You're here!'

Awkwardly, Harry bent over and swung her into his arms. Hermione was standing a little way off, her arms automatically folding themselves over her chest when he looked at her.

'Hi, Hermione,' Harry walked over to her, Jessie still clambering over his shoulders like a little monkey. 'I'll just be taking her around the village and we'll be back around five. Is that fine?'

Deep inside, he cringed at how formal he sounded, longing for the times when they were best friends and later, more than that. As much as he wanted to speed up the process of reacceptance, Harry knew that she was still dealing with the sudden onrush of emotions stirred up with his reappearance, after being suppressed years ago. He had never stopped being in love with her and was barely concealing how much he wanted her back in his life again.

After all, Harry had hurt her deeply. It was a mark of how strong she was when Hermione re-emerged with their daughter, her head held high. The last thing he wanted was to shake up her new life and break her down emotionally. Again.

Only time would heal the wounds and break down the emotional barriers Hermione had constructed around her heart.

'That'll be fine,' she replied blandly, eyes looking everywhere except directly into his emerald greens.

Harry noticed and he shuffled uneasily, a habit carried over from his Hogwarts days, another one of the many quirks which characterised the Harry Potter Hermione always said she knew and loved.

_Had loved_, said a nasty little voice at the back of his mind.

He was interpreting her inability to meet his eyes as resentment and hatred for what he had done, she could tell from the guilty look on his face. He knew that she would never forgive him for the rest of her life, that she hated him with every fibre of her being.

What Harry didn't know was that he was totally, completely, absolutely wrong.

No matter how badly she had been hurt, despite the sufferings and hardships she faced raising their daughter single-handedly, Hermione Granger was still in love with him. The bond of love and trust that had been built between the two of them over many years had proved far more difficult to break than she had thought.

Until very recently, she had hated herself for being unable to hate him. Despite what he had done to her, she still was in love with him. Hermione hated herself for being what she thought was weak.

Even now, she wasn't avoiding his penetrating gaze because she hated him. She was afraid she would lose control of her emotions and fall for him all over again.

_You're weak, _jeered a voice at the back of her mind.

_I'm not weak. I'll show you._

'Be sure to bring Jessie back punctually.'

The coldness in her voice hurt him and it showed in his eyes. Hermione bit her lip, struggling not to let a trace of emotion show on her mask.

'I will,' Harry abruptly turned on his heel, marching down the garden path with long, quick strides.

She watched him go, feeling and embracing the sharp stabbing pain in her heart, accepting it as her due punishment for hurting him.

Throughout the entire exchange, which had in real time lasted no more than a minute, Jessie watched both her parents closely though still too young to understand the non-verbal communication between them. Her instincts told her that something had been going on back there but she hadn't a clue what was it all about.

When she looked up at her father, she was surprised to see a smile back on his face, as though nothing had happened.

'So, Jess, what shall we do today?' he asked gaily, pinching her cheek.

Her bewildered five-year-old mind soon gave up on comprehending the situation and she put it away.

'Let's go shopping, Daddy!' she said eagerly, climbing back down into his arms from her lofty perch on Harry's shoulders. 'The other day, I saw this book which Mummy wouldn't buy for me…'

Harry shook his head in disbelief, an amused smile on his lips as Jessie carried on with her prattle. A five-year-old kid wanting a book? Hermione had a lot to answer for.

At the bookstore, Harry ended buying a whole bag of books and a Barney stuffed toy. He left looking more like a coat hanger than a man with a large plastic bag and a squealing little girl hanging from his lanky frame.

After a long afternoon of shopping, the exhausted pair collapsed at a table of an outdoor café. This time, Harry made sure to purchase a strawberry ice-cream with _no _sprinkles, _no _red bits _and _a chocolate wafer sticking out of the top as well as a coffee for himself. He wasn't up to the challenge of eating yet another contaminated ice-cream.

As Jessie dug enthusiastically into her ice-cream, she continually watched the passer-bys on the sidewalk, occasionally, shrieking a greeting plus an introduction of Harry to familiar faces.

'Hi Mr. and Mrs. Abrahams! This is my daddy!' Harry lowered his head, desperately trying to avoid the stares and whispers of the elderly couple. As far as he knew, Hermione had not yet made it known to the townsfolk of their complicated circumstances.

When he heard the name 'Mrs. Thomas,' Harry's blood froze in its veins.

He looked up hurriedly, praying to all the saints he knew that there was a second Mrs. Thomas in the town.

Harry was sorely disappointed.

The dignified lady was rooted to the ground in shock, glancing left and right from him and Jessie. Eventually, her mouth dropped open into a perfect 'o' but she was still unable to articulate any words.

Harry leapt to his feet and guided her to their table without meeting any resistance whatsoever. Fortunately for him, Mrs. Thomas was made of strong stuff and she soon calmed down sufficiently to talk.

'Oh my,' were her first words. Jessie bounced happily onto her lap while Harry hovered uncertainly over her, unsure of what to say.

'Maybe you would like a cup of tea, Mrs. Thomas?' said Harry, remembering Mrs. Weasley's favourite remedy for being upset.

'Yes,' she said faintly, 'a cup of strong tea would be welcome.'

The aroma of the tea seemed to revive her at least partially and she sipped it slowly as Harry removed Jessie from her lap.

'Uh, Mrs. Thomas, how did you get to know Jessie?' he asked solicitously as he struggled to pry the stubborn little girl off.

'Why, we townsfolk helped out Jane when she first arrived here,' said the old lady sharply. 'Poor girl, alone and pregnant and she _absolutely _refused to talk about her baby's father.'

Harry had the good grace to blush under Mrs. Thomas' withering glare.

'And to think I offered to introduce you to her…Thank God I didn't!' She placed the now-empty teacup back onto its saucer, shuddering as she imagined the ugly scenario that would have unfolded.

No sooner than she had finished her sentence when Jessie wriggled free of her father's grasp and launched herself back into Mrs. Thomas' lap.

Harry sat down, feeling awkward watching the two of them.

'Now, child, I really must go,' began Mrs. Thomas, gently disengaging her dress from Jessie's hands. 'Goodbye, Jessie dear, Mr. Potter!'

As soon as she vanished into the crowd, Jessie turned her attention back to her father. 'Let's continue our shopping, Daddy! There's still some candy I want…'

Harry groaned internally.

**Author's Note: **I think that was the longest chapter I've ever written. Whew! Hope you people liked that.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, et cetera, et cetera. Fill in the blanks for yourselves.

**Author's Note: **The updates from now on will be erratic and infrequent, thanks to my mum banning me from using my laptop after Sunday until next year. Kindly refrain from wanting to kill me for leaving this story hanging.

On a happier note, I'd like to thank my loyal reviewers **SwishAndFlick31**, **MiKaYGiRl**, **ProperT**, **pstibbons **and last but not least, **harry'n'hermione4ever** for their constant support. You guys rock my world and make it all worthwhile.

Warning! This chapter contains very cliché stuff! Due to the fact I want to wrap up this story in a few chapters (to avoid keeping you readers in suspense), I had to pile on the gooey life lessons to cut to the chase. Sorry for the cotton-candy sweetness, I'm a cynic at heart.

By the way, **SwishAndFlick31**, I'm taking your advice about the quotation marks for this chapter. Thanks for the feedback!

Harry was rudely awoken early the next day by a loud, insistent hooting and what felt like a warm, feathery tennis ball colliding with the side of his head.

"Ouch! Pig?!"

The tiny owl hooted madly upon hearing its name and fluttered onto his bed. Harry hastily untied the parchment tied to Pig's leg before it decided to brain him again.

The letter, written in a strange ink and damp with melted frost, was obviously from Ron. He unrolled it and settled down to read it.

_Dear Harry (and Hermione, if you're there) _Harry read,

_How're you doing, mate? Catching up with Jessie and Hermione? Mum's thrilled, she can't wait to see Hermione again and meet her 'adopted' granddaughter. _

_I'm afraid Luna and I won't be coming back to England for quite a while. Apparently, she's discovered more evidence of those bloody Crumple-horned Snorkacks and is staking out some deserted caves off the coast. I'm telling you, Harry, even I think Luna's getting battier by the minute. _

_But enough of Crumple-horned Snorkacks, how's Hermione? I hope she understood what really happened that night, but I think she will anyway. After all, no one understands you as well as she does. _

_Ginny writes to me weekly and she tells me that London has been very quiet all this while. No one has yet realised your disappearance. For once, you aren't in the spotlight and I guess you must be enjoying it. Mind you, once you go back with Hermione and Jessie, all hell will break loose and Rita Skeeter will be leading them. On the other hand, Hermione will be more than eager to have an excuse to do Skeeter._

_I'll have to wrap up here, I'm running out of ink. It freezes solid in practically no time and I have to spend ages defrosting it. Take care and hope to see you soon (away from this bloody icecave), Harry!_

_Ron (and Luna)_

Harry rolled up the parchment, smiling slightly. Crossing the room to his suitcase, he tucked the letter into a side pocket and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

When he came out about ten minutes later, he was amused by the sight of Pig poking around his room curiously.

"You can go back, Pig. I don't have a reply for Ron," he said cheerfully, pulling a T-shirt over his head.

The tiny owl twittered on reply and circled his head like a furry planet.

Pig continued to orbit around Harry's head, hooting shrilly, even when he was about to go downstairs for breakfast. In the end, he was forced to catch the little owl, tie a ribbon around its beak and wings and stuff it into his pocket.

There were already more than a few guests at the table, even at that early hour. Harry's Scottish friend was there too, wolfing a generous plate piled high with bacon and fried eggs.

"You're up early this morning," he commented in between mouthfuls. "Got somewhere you need to be?"

"Yeah,' Harry heaped kippers onto his own plate. "Stuff in the village."

"Fine morning for it. By the way, was that an owl I heard in your room earlier?"

Harry almost choked on his food at those words. "What owl?"

"You know, those loud hooting sounds. I'm pretty sure that was an owl. This place's old enough to have one of those owls nesting somewhere."

Harry stuffed his face with bacon to give himself some time to think.

"No, there's no owl around here. You must have been mistaken," Harry mumbled, then winced as Pig pecked his leg hard.

The burly Scot scratched his head, finally giving up just as Harry stood up to leave.

"Hey," he called after Harry's retreating back, "are you sure there was no owl?"

"Absolutely," replied Harry in his most deadpan voice.

He waited until he was safely out of the guesthouse before he dissolved into helpless laughter, earning himself strange looks from the dignified villagers.

Wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, Harry collapsed onto a bench in the park beside an elderly gent feeding the pigeons.

"Good day," murmured the man, engrossed in the antics of the birds.

"Good day," said a surprised Harry, unfamiliar with the formal greeting.

They sat in companionable silence, watching the pigeons fight for the breadcrumbs. The main draw was the drama unfolding in the centre of the flock between two large males.

"I come here to feed the pigeons everyday, without missing a beat," said the old gent proudly, jolting Harry out of his train of thoughts.

"Oh – ?"

"Yep. All the same pigeons come to be fed regularly. They know I'll always be there, so they're totally dependent on me now. Don't even bother searching for food elsewhere."

Harry took a closer look at the flock, now noticing the plumpness of each bird and the relative slowness of their pecking compared to their leaner city cousins.

"How long have you been feeding them?"

A bittersweet smile flashed across the elderly man's countenance. "Ten years, ever since my wife died."

Harry glanced over, a newly sympathetic look in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"We were childhood sweethearts, married when we turned eighteen. Our romance cooled over the years and I began spending more time at the local pub."

Harry leaned forward, engrossed in the narrative in spite of himself.

The elderly gent broke off to light a pipe which he had produced from his jacket pocket. The tobacco took a few matches to catch fire and he leaned back, puffing contentedly.

"I'd always loved her, but I never told her that," His face grew more withdrawn and introspective. "Everyday, I would mean to tell her but once I got home, I'd take one look at her and think, she'll still be there tomorrow. I can put off telling her."

"One day, I came home to find a policeman waiting for me. My wife had suffered a stroke. The doctor said it was over in less than five minutes and she hadn't suffered."

"I'm so sorry," offered Harry again, placing a hand on the older man's shoulder.

He inclined his head slightly, looking straight into Harry's eyes. "I learned that important lesson that day far too late. Everyday, I regret not telling her how much I loved her when I could. In the end, I never got the chance."

The elderly gent passed a hand over his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully.

"Son, do you know why I never got round to telling her?"

Even though Harry knew the answer, he shook his head.

"I thought she would always be there beside me. I should have known nothing lasts forever."

The truth of his words sunk into Harry and he ran his hand through his hair, frowning in deep contemplation.

_What if Hermione found someone else? Where would that leave me? I can't keep living in my own selfish fantasy world, thinking that everything would stay the same. I have to do something, and fast._

He stood up suddenly, startling the flock of pigeons and shook the old gent's hand heartily.

"Thank you, sir, for your insight," he said earnestly, turning and running down the street.

The older man watched his retreating back with a wearied, patient gaze, smiling to himself.

Harry didn't stop running until he reached the cosy little cottage and he leaned against the fence to catch his breath.

Once he'd calmed down sufficiently, he knocked on the door smartly, heart pounding.

"Hermione, we need to talk."

**Author's Note: **Hehe, evil author's cliffie. The last two chapters will be posted real soon, once I balance my life. Thanks for all the support you guys have given me over these past months, especially the people mentioned above.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I do not own diddly squat of Harry Potter and related elements of the Potterverse, etc, etc. What a tragedy.

**Author's Note: **As mentioned in the earlier chapter, this is the second-last chapter of **_Too Much Left Unsaid_**. I hope you readers have had as much fun reading (and reviewing) it as I have writing it. Nice, helpful reviews make me happy (hint, hint).

Sorry for the extremely, _extremely _last posting of this chapter, people! My internet crashed and I was booted off any other computer which had access. Plus, when I _finally _got a smidgen of access, kept posting error messages that they were unable to upload my chapter. Talk about a conspiracy of technology!

This chapter is dedicated to **SwishAndFlick31**, **pstibbons**, **ProperT**,** harry'n'hermione4ever **and **MiKaYGiRl. **With love, as always.

Hermione pursed her lips, opening the door wider for him to enter. "You're here early," she remarked acidly. "Jessie's not even awake yet."

"I didn't come here only to pick up Jessie."

She folded her arms and shot her best McGonagall glare in Harry's direction, causing him to shudder involuntarily. For a moment, he felt like a Gryffindor first-year caught out of bed on a night time stroll, facing the wrath of Head Girl Hermione Granger. The feeling was in no way diluted by time.

"Then?"

The basilisk-like tone of her voice cut him to the quick. Every time he tried to talk to her, to attempt to penetrate her emotional defences, she would attack him viciously with her biting, hurtful words, ever increasing the guilt, sorrow and regret which he carried in his heart. It was times like these Harry could hardly believe that this bitter young woman had been his best friend, confidante and lover.

"We need to talk, Hermione," he said gently, fighting down the pangs in his heart.

She marched over the door and opened it, standing beside the open doorway with her chin raised and her eyes flashing fire. "There's nothing left to talk about," she said sharply, her cold hazel eyes fixing him with a piercing gaze that seemed to bore right through his heart. "Please leave."

He stood firmly, his eyes locked with hers, neither wanting to be the first to back down in that test of will. Harry's emerald greens flashed first, daring her to throw him out physically since he was definitely not going to leave out of his own free will. Hermione's hazel browns seemed almost to darken into black, before taking on a steely glint. It was apparent that none were willing to give way to the other.

It was Harry who eventually broke the tension, the anger on his face almost instantly melting away as he ran a hand through his hair, his new nervous habit.

"Why don't you believe me, Hermione?" asked Harry softly, pain evident in every syllable. "What is it you want me to do? How can I prove to you that I never wanted to hurt you?"

She said nothing, at last breaking eye contact and her gaze coming to rest on the window sill.

"I want you to leave," she said at length, her words shattering Harry's heart into a million shards. "Don't destroy what I've built again here. I want to go back to the way we were for this past five years."

"What?!" Harry staggered back, vainly trying to withstand the heavy blow Hermione had dealt him.

Hermione was looking back at him now, sadness etching her face. The afternoon sun caught her tears, turning each into a sparkling diamond as it rolled down her cheeks. The harsh rays also illuminated a few wrinkles he had not seen before. The past five years had aged her, making her old beyond her years.

Harry knew, in his heart of hearts, time had marked him worse than it should have. A fresh pang stabbed his chest at the suffering he had involuntarily caused her. Never mind the emotional torment he himself went through, that was his due punishment for his own thoughtlessness.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair yet again, mind reeling at the consequences of the solution she was choosing. Hermione was asking him to go back to his lonely little apartment, to go on with the path of self-destruction he was rushing along before Ron and Ginny pulled him away. To make matters worse, he would not get to watch his daughter grow up. If nothing, Harry Potter was a determined and stubborn young man who did not let go of things easily. Jessie and Hermione were two of those things.

Before he had found Hermione, Harry had promised himself that he would not allow himself to destroy his own life. Her and Jessie's re-entry into his life had thrown everything into turmoil, awakening emotions and feelings long suppressed and hidden in some dark corner of his soul. They were not about to be banished so hastily. Harry knew then what he wanted, what he had searched for his entire life.

"Do you know what _I_ want? Or have you been too selfish to consider it?"

She made no reply, perhaps shocked by his abrupt attack on her. Nevertheless, the look on her face betrayed the fact that she already knew, and had always kept it in mind.

"I want to give Jessie a family. It's what I promised myself many years ago. I would never let any child of mine grow up the way I did, devoid of love and affection. Do you want her to grow up fatherless? Have her come home in tears because her friends jeered at her broken home?"

Hermione's continued silence assured him that she was listening.

"I used to cry myself to sleep every night as a boy, bullied and teased mercilessly by my cousin and his gang. Home and school were both hell to me. Now do you understand why I never wanted to go back to Privet Drive? I never told you and Ron the extent of the cruelty of the Dursleys towards me. What you both knew was only the tip of the iceberg."

Harry paused, fighting back the lump in his throat caused by the reawakened memories. Hermione's beautiful face danced before him, the image blurred by the tears that had welled up in his eyes. Squeezing them shut, the tears trickled down his cheeks, bringing Hermione back into sharp focus and revealing the pain on her face. Harry steadied himself, clenching his fists and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Once, when I was four, a distant relative of mine sent me a teddy bear. It was one of the few toys of my childhood. Naturally, that bear and I were inseparable. Dudley got jealous because I seemed so happy with just one ratty old bear while the entire house was filled with his toys. One day, he snatched it away from me and ripped it into pieces while my aunt and uncle looked on."

His voice had faltered midway through the story and dwindled away altogether at the end. Harry stopped, his chest feeling like it was being constricted as he relived that painful memory once more. She looked at him, eyes filled with sympathy, remembering her own pampered childhood as the only child of two affluent dentists.

"My years at Hogwarts, meeting you and Ron, they represented a golden age in my life. The three of us experienced so much together. The day we realised we were both in love with each other was the happiest of my life. I thought I had everything, despite the constant threat of Voldemort hanging over my head. Tell me, in your heart of hearts, do you really believe I would cheat on you with Romilda Vane after everything we've gone through?"

Hermione was looking away from him now, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.

Harry's heart leapt as the truth of what she was telling him sank in.

"I never doubted you for a second, Harry," she whispered, making his heart stop with the shock of that revelation. "I…I was just too ashamed to come back."

"Once I had calmed down from the shock of seeing you…like that, I realised you would never do anything to hurt me. I ran away not because I believed you cheated on me. I was ashamed of myself for ever questioning your love for me."

She swayed gently, back and forth, as though she had lost her balance from releasing a revelation so massive and Harry's hands itched, longing to catch her and hold her to him. Hermione's face seemed lighter now that the secret she had been nursing for five long years finally saw the light of day. She pressed on, seemingly invigorated.

"I came here to punish myself for doubting you by giving you up. I was supposed to live alone but I realised I was pregnant with Jessie."

Harry stared at her, digesting this new information while she refused to meet his eyes. Unnoticed by Hermione, he took a few steps forward towards her.

"I never stopped loving you." The last words came out in a whisper and she looked up into his eyes, realising with a start that he was standing right in front of her, his face full of tenderness and love.

"So did I."

Hermione felt a pair of arms curling around the small of her back, pulling her towards him firmly but gently. She welcomed his embrace, throwing his arms around Harry's neck and burying her face in his chest, her fingers entangled in his silky hair.

Enveloped in his hug, she felt a gentle pressure on her chin, tilting her face upwards. Harry was smiling, the soft, gentle smile she so often saw in her dreams, the smile that made her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered to him.

"I love you," he murmured, hand moving upward from her chin to caress her face. "And I always have."

Bending his head, his lips met hers in a warm and tender kiss. Hermione kissed him back, one hand still in his hair, the other resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. The kiss deepened gradually, their hands roaming over each other's bodies, frantically trying to get closer still.

They parted reluctantly, the need for oxygen finally getting through to their inflamed minds. Harry's warm emerald greens met Hermione's hazel browns, a look of pure love and understanding passing between them and she leaned into his chest, surrendering herself to him.

"I love you too," whispered Hermione as he rested his chin on her head, both still locked in their embrace.

They were most rudely interrupted by an insistent tugging on their clothes.

"Mummy? Daddy? What are you doing?"

They looked down to see an astonished Jessie, mouth hanging open and eyes agog.

Harry laughed, scooping the little girl up to join in the hug, nestling her in between Hermione and himself.

"Falling in love all over again, Jessie," said Hermione softly, exchanging a long look with Harry.

The little girl was unmoved by the beauty of the situation.

"How? By doing that mouth thi – eeuww!!"

Harry and Hermione leaned over while Jessie was still vainly articulating the sight she had seen earlier and shared a kiss. Upon hearing her violent outcry, they separated and burst into laughter. For the first time in five years, it was real.

**Author's Note: **They finally got back together. Yay! Sorry for the long, _long_ delay in posting. My internet was down, plus I had to use a school computer to do this and it's terribly difficult to write the last bit when a nosy old librarian is watching you like a hawk. How we writers suffer for our craft…

There will be an epilogue coming out soon, just to wrap up some of the loose ends yet unaddressed in this story. Until next time, dear readers!

With love,

**The Pumpkin Pie Princess**


	13. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter. None of the FanFiction writers do. J.K. Rowling, in her great and infinite wisdom, she who paired him with Ginny, does, though she is unworthy of it, in my humble opinion.

**Author's Note: **I was greatly heartened by the trickle of reviews that came through, despite my long delay in updating. It's always nice to know that there are always people out there reading my work.

For **SwishAndFlick31, pstibbons, MiKaYGiRl **and **ProperT. **Thanks for hanging in there every step of the way. I would have abandoned this story long ago if it wasn't for your support and encouragement.

The first thing Harry did after leaving Hermione's cottage was to go back to the park bench and thank the elderly gentleman warmly. He was astonished initially, to say the least, but a smile did spread across his face. As Harry left to return to the guesthouse, a sad look flickered in the man's eyes, one that spoke of deep regret and loss. He still missed his wife.

The burly Scot was in the lounge, smoking a vile, obviously hand-rolled cigar of the kind usually found in rural Scotland when Harry entered. He didn't linger, proceeding straight up the stairs into his room, missing out on overhearing the Scot's conversation with a sceptical Japanese boarder about a rogue owl hooting in the guesthouse. It would certainly have brought a smile to Harry's lips, if he wasn't already grinning from ear to ear.

Harry packed his things with a speed that was remarkable, even for magic. He was hurrying downstairs with his suitcases in less than five minutes after he came through the front door.

His Scottish friend spotted him as Harry dragged the last of his stuff down the stairs. "Are you leaving already?" he asked, wrinkling his brow.

"Yes," he replied, dropping his case with a thud in front of the reception desk, "I've got things to do back home in London."

The Scot extended a brawny hand genially and Harry clasped it. The two men shook hands heartily and the Scot clapped him on the back.

"Nice knowing you, mon. Visit me if you ever drop by fine old Edinburgh, alright?"

"If you'll look me up in London."

Just then, Mrs Thomas came back from her grocery shopping. Harry was eager to check out as quickly as he could and with a last nod to his friend, walked back to the reception desk.

"Bide a wee!" called a thickly-accented voice. "We never exchanged names, now, did we? I'm Robert McGonagall!"

Harry stopped short and turned to face him. "You wouldn't be related to _Minerva _McGonagall by any chance, would you?"

"She's my aunt. I really don't know very much about her, my mum hardly mentions her. Why?"

Harry suppressed a grin at the bewildered look on Robert's face.

"I think we'll be meeting very soon, Robert."

Leaving it at that, he strode across the room and placed both hands on the desk. Mrs Thomas appeared a second later, emerging from the kitchen with a rather harassed look on her face which became more pronounced when she saw who was standing there.

"Checking out already, Mr Potter? You've only been here a few days!"

"I'm feeling much better now, Mrs Thomas," he said, grinning. "Thanks so much for your hospitality over my stay."

Without warning, he suddenly leaned over the desk and engulfed her in a massive bear hug.

Mrs Thomas was shocked, to say the least. She was even more astonished when he released her with a quick peck on the cheek.

"My goodness," she muttered, two spots of colour forming high on her face. Busying herself with the logbook, she made a show of not meeting Harry's eyes, which were undoubtedly dancing with mischief. "I can certainly see that your stay here has…_invigorated _you."

Filling in a few more lines of text in her spidery handwriting, she closed the heavy book with a snap.

"That will be all, Mr Potter. Thank you for patronising my little guesthouse." The last words were delivered in a dreamy tone, most unlike the brisk little woman's demeanour.

Harry paused, halfway through fumbling with a wad of pound notes. "What?"

"You heard me," she snapped abruptly, reverting back to her normal tone of voice. "Now get out before I throw you out!" Much to his relief, the last sentence was delivered with a wink.

"Don't I have to pay?" he asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

"No, consider it as staying with your aunt or something. Always glad to help out friends of Dean."

A warm smile lit up Harry's face. "Then please do me the honour of coming to my wedding."

"You're getting married?" asked Mrs Thomas eagerly. "To whom, may I enquire?"

Harry flashed her his most devilish smile. "You'll see when you get there. I'll send you a formal invitation."

Much to his surprise, she flashed back an equally wicked smile. "I'll be waiting. Goodbye for now, Mr Potter. Oh, and by the way, you look cute when you're confused, you know."

Smirking all over, she swept back into the kitchen, leaving a slack-jawed, shocked Harry Potter standing there. _Did Dean's aunt just _flirt _with me?_

Eventually, he recovered sufficiently to grab his suitcases and make his way back to Hermione's cottage. The lingering hint of a smile still remained. _This town really is full of surprises._

Hermione and Jessie had already packed their things and were ready to move when he arrived. The little girl was sulking, even when Harry picked her up and kissed her on the cheek.

"I don't see why we have to move…all my friends are here in the town…my room is just the way I like it…" she mumbled, clutching a well-worn stuffed Hippogriff.

Harry picked up a kettle from the kitchen, murmuring "**Portus**," and setting it down onto the grass as it shimmered and hummed.

Hermione eyed the kettle with some degree of apprehension. "So where are we going, Harry?" she asked casually.

"It's a surprise," he told her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "You'll see when we get there."

Giggling in a most un-Hermione fashion, she pecked him on the cheek. "I don't like surprises."

He laughed and kissed her back. "This is a good one, trust me."

Hermione went to collect Jessie from where she had been roaming morosely around the house, bidding a private farewell to it.

They gathered around the kettle Portkey, Hermione making sure no Muggles saw them as Harry checked his watch. "One more minute," he muttered, tugging on the leather strap binding one of the suitcases. "Ten – Jessie, don't move! 'Mione, hold her hand…Five, four, three, two, _one_."

He felt the familiar, irresistible jerk in the region of his navel almost immediately as he watched his family swirl around him. Almost as instantaneously as it dissolved, the environment reformed and solidified.

They were standing in front of a house, a three-storey structure with beautiful stone carvings adorning the window sills. The words '_Godric's Hollow' _were engraved in curling Victorian script on a brass nameplate hanging outside.

"It's…This is…" Hermione was speechless for a moment, transfixed by the house, before she turned back to Harry.

Tears were forming in his eyes, blurring their brilliant green colour. "I bought back the plot before the War and had the house rebuilt. It was supposed to be a surprise for you after we killed Voldemort."

She leaned her head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Hermione felt his hand moving up her back, coming to rest on her head, fingers twirling and tangling themselves in her hair. "Don't be. It was my fault as well. I shouldn't have gotten angry at you."

She tilted her head upwards, losing herself in his emerald eyes even as her hands slid around his neck. Drawing her into the comforting circle of his embrace, they touched foreheads, breaths intermingling, feeling the warmth of each other.

Harry and Hermione remained locked in their embrace, neither wanting to break the spell that had been weaved mysteriously over them. Jessie impatiently plopped herself down onto a suitcase, bored of waiting but too well-behaved to interrupt her parents. Finally, her five-year-old patience worn thin, she crawled under the gate and ran inside the garden to explore her new home.

"We had better go in," smiled Harry, kissing the tip of Hermione's nose. "Our future is waiting."

The wedding of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger less than two weeks later sent shockwaves through the wizarding world, particularly for single witches still holding out for Britain's most eligible bachelor. On the other hand, it sent Rita Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quill absolutely wild, churning out article after article filled with speculations and so-called 'exclusive interviews'.

All of the couple's friends and their respective families from their Hogwarts days were invited, naturally. Skeeter tried to infiltrate the wedding reception in her Animagus form but was comically chased away by an aging Crookshanks who had been adopted by the Weasley family when Hermione disappeared.

Ron and Luna arrived the day before the actual wedding, bringing the oddest wedding present in wizarding history: a wedding carriage covered in Icelandic motifs, drawn by a team of Crumple-horned Snorkacks.

"I couldn't believe those ruddy things actually existed," commented Ron after he had clapped Harry on the back and whirled Hermione about. "The carriage was Luna's idea too. That woman comes up with the strangest ideas," he added, a fond look in his eye.

Jessie enjoyed herself immensely. She was spoilt rotten by everybody, especially Mr and Mrs Weasley, with constant attention and affection. Even more exciting was the bridesmaid's dress being hand-sewn for her by the Weasley women. Not many kids could boast of being the bridesmaid at their parents' wedding.

When Dean arrived, Lavender Brown on his arm, he got the shock of his life when he saw his aunt proudly sitting in the guest of honour's seat, wearing a smart lavender outfit.

"Aunt Rachel?!" he gasped, mouth opening and closing in astonishment. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

"Attending Mr Potter's wedding to Jane Granger, as are you," snapped the elderly lady briskly.

"You _are_ aware that this is a magical wedding?"

"It's a magical day for _all_ young couples," she said icily.

"Magical as in _wizarding_, I mean."

"Of course I do. You don't think that my own sister wouldn't tell me that my nephew is a wizard?"

Dean's jaw dropped lower than before, if that was even possible.

The irrepressible old lady winked salaciously at him. "I know a lot of things, sweetie. Though discovering Jane Granger was actually Hermione Granger was a surprise for me too."

"You know who Hermione Granger is??" Dean was beyond astonished now. Flabbergasted was probably closer, but still a long way off from describing his reaction accurately.

Mrs Thomas shrugged. "Who wouldn't know the hero of the wizarding world and his brilliant best friend? Minerva McGonagall is a good friend of mine, after all. Her nephew was also briefly staying at my guesthouse with Mr Potter." Her eyes narrowed, piercing her nephew's. "I don't have to let everyone know what I know, after all. They'd be shocked beyond belief."

His mind had completely shut down now, totally incapable of absorbing new information. He tottered over to his seat and collapsed heavily, Lavender supporting him as he went.

The instant he sat down, music began playing and the carriage pulled up outside the hall.

It was the fairy-tale wedding of the century, attended by wizard and Muggle alike. Rubeus Hagrid sat at the back with Grawp, dabbing his eyes with a tablecloth-sized handkerchief and occasionally blowing his nose with a deafening blast.

At Hermione's explicit request, the house elves of each attending family were seated in front. Led by Dobby, they managed to enjoy their temporary freedom for the day, even Winky.

_The Daily Prophet _featured a massive front page article covering the wedding, which had been mysteriously written by Skeeter. As it turned out, she'd been chased into a bouquet of flowers and stayed there, rather than risk being squashed by Crookshanks, an experience she never recounted. For the rest of her life after that, Skeeter developed a fear of cats, especially large orange tiger-like ones.

Harry and Hermione were too happy to care, away on their honeymoon around the world while Jessie stayed with the Weasleys, getting to know her new extended family.

Seven months after they returned and settled down comfortably in Godric's Hollow and much to Jessie's delight, a baby boy they named James Ronald was born. He was quickly followed by Elizabeth Ginevra, Andrew Brian, and Emily Kathleen, giving Harry the large and loving family he'd always dreamed of.

Harry got a job as an Auror with the Ministry while Hermione applied for and got a position as a Healer. Meanwhile, Dobby insisted on becoming the Potters' house elf despite strong protests from Hermione. He ended up being the most well-paid and the only elf in history to have medical insurance.

And of course, they lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the rushed ending. I was trying to finish this by midnight. Hope you enjoyed the update and thank you for supporting me every step of the way. Until next time.


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